“Ah, so that is Barrington,” the man said. “We know where he is.”

“Where?”

“At the building belonging to Marcel duBois. It is surrounded by the police and the DIA, and there are vehicles there registered to the American Embassy.”

“Then bring him to me!”

“Don Leonardo, I am sorry to say that the security in the building and its courtyard has been impenetrable for us, and they have discovered and disconnected our cameras and listening devices in the building. On the one occasion that Barrington and his friend left the building and drove to Tivoli, they did so in an embassy vehicle that had bulletproof glass and bodywork, and our attempt to kidnap them failed.”

“So now I have to deal not only with the police and the DIA, but the health department, building inspectors, and the Americans?”

“It would appear so, Don Leonardo. I regret that, in the present circumstances, we are unable to carry out your orders.”

Casselli glared at the man and waited for him to wilt, but he did not. He began to admire his courage, and, being a practical man, he recognized that what he was being told was true. “Still,” he said, “we have an edge.”

“We do, Don Leonardo? What is that?”

“Give me a secure cell phone,” Casselli said.

The man removed a phone from his pocket and handed it to him.

Casselli looked closely at it. “This cannot be traced?”

“We change them every day,” the man said. “That one has not yet been used.”

Casselli took a notebook from his pocket and found a number, then dialed it.

—

Stone was alone in the living room when his phone rang. He checked caller ID and saw nothing. “Hello?”

“Good day, Mr. Barrington,” Casselli said. “Do you know who this is?”

Of course he knew, but he wanted Casselli to say it. “No. Who are you?”

“This is Leonardo Casselli.”

“Oh, yes, I remember you. I last saw you running from a Paris restaurant, ahead of the police.”

“Very far ahead. It was duplicitous of you to try to take me, and worse, ineffective.”

“What can I do for you, Leo?” He knew Casselli hated being called that.

“How would you like to buy back the girl?”

“I would have to speak to her, before I can even discuss that,” Stone said. “I will need proof of life. Surely you have kidnapped people before—you know how these things are done.”

“I can arrange for you to hear her scream,” Casselli said through clenched teeth.

“Come now, Leo, making threats will not get us to a mutually satisfying conclusion. What do you want?”

“Fifty million euros,” Casselli said, “and the attention of the police withdrawn.”

Stone laughed aloud and hung up the phone. He called Lugano.

“Yes?”

“Casselli just called. Did you get a trace on him?”

“On which phone?”

“The old one.”

“No. Our system can only do two searches at a time. Capacity is taken up by a watch on your new cell and Hedy’s phone.”

“Shit. Hedy’s phone is dead. Take it down and concentrate on my two phones.”

“All right. What did Casselli have to say?”

“He’s feeling the heat,” Stone said. “He wanted fifty million euros and, get this, the police and the DIA off his back.”

“Jesus, is he serious about the money?”

“Of course not, he’s just trying to show me he has the upper hand. He wouldn’t let me speak to Hedy. That indicates to me that he and she are not in the same place. He threatened to torture her.”

“What did you say to him?”

“I hung up the phone.”

“Well, that was gutsy of you.”

“What else could I do? I’m not going to give him fifty million euros, even if I could raise it.”

“Well then, I suppose the next move is his. Let’s see what he comes up with.”

“Right.” Stone hung up, hoping that Casselli’s next move was not Hedy screaming into the phone.

43

Casselli sat, fuming. The insolence of this Barrington! He was unaccustomed to being spoken to in that manner, and no one, but no one, ever got away with hanging up on him during a telephone conversation. He turned to the two men. “I have a rather distasteful job for you,” he said.

“Anything, Don Leonardo,” they said in unison.

“I need you to go and take the finger of a young woman.” He explained exactly how he wanted it done.

“Which finger, Don Leonardo?” one of them asked.

“Oh, let’s see, how about right index?”

“It shall be done, Don Leonardo.”

—

Stone and Dino were having a drink with Viv and Marcel at the end of the day, when a package was delivered.

“Who is this from?” Stone asked.

“We don’t know, but it’s not explosive. It’s an object about three inches long,” the DIA agent said. “Would you like me to open it?”

“Please,” Stone said.

The young man produced a switchblade, flicked it open, and cut the tape around the box. He removed the lid and handed it to Stone.

Whatever it was was in an envelope of suede leather, like something from a jewelry store. Stone opened it and shook out the contents into the box. He blanched. The object was a human finger, with a brightly painted nail. “Jesus Christ.”

Jim Lugano came into the room. “I heard there was a package delivered,” he said. “Was it checked out?”

Stone handed him the box. “I checked it out, and I’m sorry I did.”

“Well,” Lugano said, looking at the thing, “that’s gory. Do you recognize it as being Hedy’s?”

“I’ve no idea. I never examined her fingers.”

Jim pointed at the young Italian agent. “You. Come with me.” The two men left the room. Twenty minutes later, Jim returned. “I’ve sent it to the police lab. Do you know if Hedy has ever been fingerprinted?”

Stone shook his head.

“Military service? Arrest? Application for a gun license? Anything?”

“I don’t know,” Stone said. “Run the print and see what you come up with.”

“That’s being done,” Jim said. “I’m going to go over to the lab and see what they’re finding out. Do you want to come?”

“No, thanks,” Stone said. “Right now I’m working on not losing my lunch.”

“I’ll call you when I know something.”

“Try for some more cheerful news,” Stone said. Jim left, and the others sat there, silent. “Maybe I shouldn’t have hung up on Casselli,” Stone said at last.

“Stone, this is not your fault,” Viv said.

“Isn’t it? The worst luck Hedy has ever had was meeting me on an airplane. This wouldn’t have happened to her otherwise.”

They sat, mostly in silence, for another hour or so; then Stone’s phone rang, and he got it out of his pocket.

“Just a moment,” Viv said. She took a small object from her pocket and affixed it to the back of his phone. “Now answer it.”

Stone pressed the button. “Hello?”

“You don’t sound so good,” Casselli said. “Has something upset you?”

Stone was silent.

“It was very quick, you understand, and a nurse was standing by, so no permanent damage has been done.” He paused for a beat. “Yet.”

Stone still couldn’t speak.

“Of course, it was very painful—nothing to be done about that.”

“You miserable piece of shit,” Stone was finally able to say. “I hope I find you before the police do.”

“That would be a very interesting meeting,” Casselli replied. “Now, are you ready to negotiate the release of the girl?”

“I won’t negotiate with you.”

“I don’t know what it takes to move you, Mr. Barrington. Shall I send you more body parts? Would you like to return them to her parents?”

Stone hung up. Viv took the phone from him, tapped some keys, and replayed the conversation. Everyone listened, rapt. “Good man,” Viv said when it was done.